CropOver, bank holidays, and playdates for all

Crop Over is the height of Barbados holiday celebrations, even more so than Independence Day.  Two days, two working days, are given over to the fete much like Carnival in Trinidad with music, nearly butt naked dancing and copious amounts of alcohol to whet the appetite for excitement and celebration.  I watched it all on TV.  Yeah, I know, lame.  But I couldn't really think of any way to participate this year.  Most of the jumping--walking, marching, and dancing in the parade--would take place far from home and Didier, sure of mysterious illnesses that would suddenly befall scheduled workers, was on the job.  While I have been ambivalent about Barbados, I respect holidays and traditions, and hoped to experience the real Crop Over in some way. 

From my end, all I saw were closed shops and banks, empty streets, a quiet Holetown, and ex-pats scrambling to get together.  Many had already been part of Crop Over in years passed and just wanted to get on with their lives today and some were in situations like mine, just not really willing to bus the girls to Bridgetown for bacchanalia in the heat, rain, and crowds, though the rain and wind probably gave the jumpers some break from this broiling heat and humidity.

That was yesterday.  Today, the banks and stores are still closed.  I imagine there is quite a lot of recuperating going on on the island today.  Even better for us.  Because today, we ladies had a special treat.  We met up, well actually, we were picked up by my friend and the girls' swimming instructor, Wendy and her two little girls, both former classmates of Lily's, and taken to the beach at Sandy Lane.  Sandy Lane is an incredibly posh hotel on the island, actually THE posh hotel which also has a housing development full of lovely homes and a golf course and all things lovely on Barbados.  It is truly stunning.  Tiger Woods, God bless him, got married at Sandy Lane, and though he unsuccessful prevented people from taking the access road through the property to prevent paparazzi et al from getting in, he was able to shut down the rest of the place.  I can see why he'd want to.  It is gorgeous and well maintained.  It's where all the British celebrities stay when they are here.  (And they are here much more than anyone from America.)  The beach is lovely and today was quite calm and quiet.

The girls got to playing straight away and we all got in the water, it being too gorgeous to resist.  Wendy is right up my alley, something I surely haven't said much since arriving here.  She is funny and witty and we found we had more in common than we'd known.  I don't feel like I have to be selective about what I share, trying to protect her from my potty mouth and sarcasm and felt I could be more forthright about our life here. 

There is a lot of pretense in Barbados.  Surely everywhere, but there is a facade I think quite common in resort communities where people either pretend to have more than they do, to be happier than they are, to adore everything they experience on a daily basis and give you a look of repulsion if you say you think the emperor is really not wearing any clothes.  Now I am certainly a great pretender, I made my living that way for a time, but I have missed honest, open dialogue, irreverence, and just shit-talking.  I have always needed to talk it out to figure it out and I find the more I have been able to do that of late, the better being here has been.  Better.  I am not selling the farm just yet.

It was a lovely morning with just one meltdown, finally not mine or Lily's, and I arrived home happy, contented, and absolutely burnt a nice chocolate brown.  My little caramel and milk chocolate dewdrops were satisfied too.  Now isn't that a way to spend a holiday. 


(c) copyright 2010. City Mom in the Jungle.